Cities of Night Semiotic Love
by RussianWolf7
Summary: Not at all what I meant it to be. A cross between intropective character learning stuff, murdering stuff, and a love story. It actually has a plot, which I'm pround of. There should be more soon, I think. Be kind my first Sweeney Todd story?
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Cities of Night/Semiotic Love

**Pairing: **Sweeney/Lovett, at some point.

**Warnings:** Hopefully sex? Not sure. Murder, of course, but that's a given.

**Word Count: **595

**Rating:** PG-13, maybe?

**Spoilers:** Heh, it's Sweeney Todd.

**Disclaimer:** Sweeney Todd belongs to…oh, god, this is complicated. Um, not me. How about that? We could say Tim Burton, or we could say Edward Lloyd, or the people of London. Take your pick. Cities of Night and Semiotic Love belong to Blaqk Audio.

**Author's Note: **Give it a chance; it gets better a couple paragraphs in. And review, pretty please?

_Cities of Night/Semiotic Love_

She was nearly asleep when the door opened. Mrs. Lovett groaned, rolling over but not opening her eyes.

"Toby, darling, go to bed."

"It's not Toby."

She sat up quickly, keeping the blankets wrapped around herself. "Mr. T? What're you doing here? It's the middle of the night." She squinted in the dark, seeing only the glint of his razors.

"Couldn't sleep."

Her eyes were starting to adjust to the dark, and he was running a finger along the blade, mesmerized. She stood up, walking over to him. "Come now, love. Let's get you some gin, and then you'll sleep." She rested a hand on his arm to lead him into the kitchen, expecting him to follow her.

He didn't. With a speed usually reserved for his victims, he put his razor back into the pouch and grabbed her wrist, pulling her against him. Their faces were only a few inches apart.

"I'll not have you send me to bed like a child," he snarled. "I'm not yours to look after."

Mrs. Lovett's eyes widened, her breathing quickened. "Mr. Todd, I–"

He let her go, stalking over to the window. He stood with his back to her, running his fingers down the pane of glass. He was silent for a long time, long enough for it to be uncomfortable.

"I'm moving faster than the rest of the world," he said at last, almost to himself. "My mind never stops, no matter what I do. And the world isn't going to speed up, that's for sure. Do you have any idea what that's like, Mrs. Lovett? To never be able to slow down, to stop thinking? To be a prisoner in your own mind? And you keep telling me to wait. How do you expect me to wait, when every minute is an hour, every hour a day, every day a year?" Mr. Todd turned around, locking eyes with her. "How can I?"

She opened her mouth to speak, then shut it, finding herself speechless.

He looked away, back out the window. "I don't expect you to understand."

She was by his side immediately, holding him from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder. "No, no, no, Mr. Todd, I do. Of course I do. We can do it tonight, if you'd like. Sneak into his house and slit his throat while he sleeps."

"No," he said. "He has to know who I am."

"Then we can wake him up first, whatever you like."

He turned around, and again they were pressed against each other. "What makes you think you're coming?" he asked. "This belongs to me, not you."

She pulled him into a hug, the first one they had ever shared. "Of course it does," she said, leaning her head on his chest. "Besides, I'm quick on my feet, right? I'm useful."

The corners of his mouth turned up in what was not quite a smile. He put his hands on her shoulders, moving her so he could see her properly. "That you are, Mrs. Lovett." He rested a hand on the back of her neck, guiding her to the window. "We should wait until tomorrow," he said. "Slip into his house and wait for him to get back from court." He did smile now, a full fledged grin that would send anyone other than Mrs. Lovett screaming. "Bake him a pie or two, would you, love?"

She smiled back. "And what would you like to serve him?"

"It should be easy enough to make Beadle disappear, don't you think?"

"That could be arranged."

3


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Cities of Night/Semiotic Love

**Pairing: **Sweeney/Lovett, at some point.

**Warnings:** Hopefully sex? Not sure. Murder, of course, but that's a given. Still.

**Word Count: **655

**Rating:** PG-13, maybe? Maybe R. Can't tell.

**Spoilers:** Heh, it's Sweeney Todd.

**Disclaimer:** Sweeney Todd belongs to…oh, god, this is complicated. Um, not me. How about that? We could say Tim Burton, or we could say Edward Lloyd, or the people of London. Take your pick. Cities of Night and Semiotic Love belong to Blaqk Audio.

**Author's Note: **I actually sort of like this chapter! Makes me sad that Mrs. Lovett wasn't in it, though…Next time!

_Cities of Night/Semiotic Love_

"Good morning, sir!"

The judge woke up with a start, reaching instinctively for the gun he kept under his pillow.

"Calm down, sir! It's only me, Sweeney Todd. Beadle let me in."

Judge Turpin focused on the man in front of him, confused. For a second he looked like someone else, someone he used to know a long time ago. But then it was gone and he saw that it was, indeed, the barber from Fleet Street. The one who kept company with the sailor. "What are you doing here?" he growled, shifting so he had better access to his gun.

"Beadle stopped by the other day," Todd said, taking out his razor and flipping it open. The silver gleamed in the morning light, and an unwelcome shiver ran down the judge's spine. "He told me of your plight with a certain ward, and I thought I might help. Make it up to you for the other day."

The judge eyed the barber, sizing him up. He was sure he knew him from somewhere, but he couldn't place it. He ran a hand down his cheek. "I suppose a shave couldn't hurt."

Todd smiled. "No, sir, I can't see how it could. Maybe a dash of cologne, sir, and a trim. To lend you a more seductive tone, right?"

Judge smiled back. "Indeed, sir."

Todd grabbed a chair that had been in a corner, dragging it into the middle of the room. "Sit, sir."

The judge did as he was told, making himself comfortable. The barber swung the cloth around, carefully tucking it in behind his neck. He leaned over, putting his face in the judge's. "How about that shave?"

And there it was. The barber from fifteen years ago, the one he sent away. Benjamin Barker. He kept himself from reacting, but it was a close one. Why was he here? It had to be for revenge; there was no other earthly reason for it. The question was if he could get to his gun before Barker played out whatever scheme he was planning.

"Sir? The shave?"

Judge sat up, taking off the cape and letting it slide to the floor. "I just remembered, I must–"

Todd grabbed him by the shoulder, slamming him back into the chair. "I think it's better for all of us if you sit. _Sir_," he said, spitting out the last word. "Wouldn't want me to slip, now would you?"

Cold metal rested against Judge's throat, slowing and speeding his mind simultaneously. He needed to get up, just long enough to grab the gun, and then it would be over with, done. Again. "No, we certainly wouldn't want that." The barber's grip was tight, and any sudden movements would result in his throat being slit. There had to be a way out of it, if only he could think for a second.

_Beadle._

"The Beadle has already been disposed of," Todd whispered­. "Just the two of us, sir. Alone, in this empty house…Do you know who I am, Judge Turpin?"

"I really can't say–"

"Mr. Todd? You said he'd be gone by now!"

He jerked back, barely nicking the judge as he tried to catch his balance. He whirled around, razor in hand. "Get out!"

The judge took the moment. He jumped out of the chair and grabbed the gun. "Don't move."

Todd turned around carefully, slowly lowering his arms. "Judge, I hardly think–"

"Think what? That I shouldn't kill you? We tried that, remember? It didn't work out so well." He had his eye on Mr. Todd, not noticing that the sailor had a gun until it was too late.

"Drop it," Anthony said. His hand didn't waver, but his voice did. "Just drop it."

The judge laughed, training his gun on Anthony. "I don't think so, boy. You don't scare me." He turned back to Todd. "I think it's time we parted, _sir_. Good bye."

_Bang._

3


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **Cities of Night/Semiotic Love

**Pairing: **Sweeney/Lovett, at some point.

**Warnings:** Hopefully sex? Not sure. Murder, of course, but that's a given. Still. Again.

**Word Count: **781

**Rating:** PG-13, maybe? Maybe R. Can't tell.

**Spoilers:** Heh, it's Sweeney Todd.

**Disclaimer:** Sweeney Todd belongs to…oh, god, this is complicated. Um, not me. How about that? We could say Tim Burton, or we could say Edward Lloyd, or the people of London. Take your pick. Cities of Night and Semiotic Love belong to Blaqk Audio.

**Author's Note: **So yeah, don't shoot me (unintentional pun, really). Everything'll work out. Wouldn't want Mr. T dying on us now, would we? Also, this chapter is dedicated to my boyfriend because I say it is.

_Cities of Night/Semiotic Love_

_Bang._

Mrs. Lovett stopped, looking around. Why were there gun shots? Mr. Todd had his razors, not a gun. She stood up, wiping her hands on her corset before heading back inside. A quick glance behind her told her that Beadle was, indeed, still dead, and mostly invisible in the corner she had left him in.

"Mr. T?" she called.

Anthony ran into the room, eyes wide, gun still in hand. "Mrs. Lovett! Come quick! There's been a terrible accident, and–"

"Calm down, and put that thing away," she said, following him upstairs. "What happened?"

"I, I guess I got here early, because the judge was still here, and Mr. Todd was with him, but then the judge had a gun, and I wasn't quick enough, I'm so sorry, Mrs. Lovett, I tried to stop him, I really did, but he was just so fast, and I…" he trailed off as they reached the judge's room.

Her eyes widened as she saw the scene. The judge was sprawled on the bed, staining the sheets red. He was quiet obviously dead, which was good, she supposed. But Mr. T…She was by his side immediately, holding his head in her lap.

"Mr. T?" she said, gently slapping his cheek. "Mr. T, please wake up."

He turned his head to the side and coughed, splattering blood on the floor. "I…I didn't…"

"He's dead, dear," she whispered desperately. "Anthony, he killed the judge. You don't have to worry about him anymore."

"Johanna…"

Mrs. Lovett turned to Anthony, who stepped into the room, though just barely. "She's fine, sir. Waiting for me downstairs."

"Go," she said, turning back to Mr. Todd.­

"Do you want me to get a doctor?" he asked.

"_No_." She brushed a lock of hair out of his face, the white that was barely lighter than his skin. "Get me a knife, though, and any sheets you can find."

"Yes, ma'am." He turned and left, leaving them alone.

"Hang on, Mr. T," she said. "Everything's going to be alright, you hear me? You'll be fine, I promise. Just a few more minutes, and we'll get that closed up proper."

He groaned, spitting up more blood. "I…"

"Shh, love. Don't try to talk." She was crying now, tears streaming down her face unnoticed. "I'll fix you up."

His eyes locked with hers for a moment before slipping shut.

"Anthony!" she yelled. "Get back up here!"

He was at her side a minute later, items in hand. "Is there anything else I can do?"

"Run back home and get me a needle and thread," she replied, using the knife to cut his shirt away. She took a fraction of a second to admire his form before examining the wound. "Be quick about it." The hole was small and dark, but it looked like the bleeding was slowing down, which she assumed was a good sign. Carefully, she maneuvered the knife into the wound, trying to dig the bullet out. Mr. Todd groaned, eyes starting to open.

"What're you doing?" he moaned.

"Shh, just another minute…" Mrs. Lovett turned the knife ever so slightly, getting the tip under the bullet. He groaned again. "Almost got it…" She flicked the knife and the bullet popped out, clattering onto the floor. "There you go, darling. All done." The wound had started to bleed again, not quite gushing, but close to it. She grabbed one of the sheets and folded it, pressing it down as hard as she could. "Anthony will be back soon with a needle and thread, and then I'll sew you up, good as new."

She stayed like that for who knows how long, talking to him, holding the blankets, wondering what the hell was taking Anthony so long. He came eventually, with a needle and purple thread.

"It was all I could find, ma'am," he said, stepping back.

"It'll do fine," she said, putting the blanket aside. It stuck to the bullet hole for a moment before pulling away, blood pouring everywhere. "Go find Johanna, take her back to the shop. Keep her safe."

"Yes, ma'am," he said and left quietly.

"This might hurt a bit, love," she said, expertly threading the needle. "Just take a deep breath, and it'll be over soon." Trying not to think about what she was doing she started sewing, keeping her mind on the stitches, not the man himself. It only took a few moments and she tied the knot before sitting back and surveying her work. It was red and angry looking, but no worse than anything she'd seen before. He'd be fine, she judged, if a little sore.

Now to get him back to her shop.

4


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: **Cities of Night/Semiotic Love

**Pairing: **Sweeney/Lovett.

**Warnings:** Hopefully sex? Not sure. Murder, of course, but that's a given. Still. Again. More so.

**Word Count: **818

**Rating:** PG-13, maybe? Maybe R. Can't tell. Probably R by now.

**Spoilers:** Heh, it's Sweeney Todd.

**Disclaimer:** Sweeney Todd belongs to…oh, god, this is complicated. Um, not me. How about that? We could say Tim Burton, or we could say Edward Lloyd, or the people of London. Take your pick. Cities of Night and Semiotic Love belong to Blaqk Audio.

**Author's Note: **Having some issues about where to go next (i.e. how to not have Sweeney go even more insane), but we'll get there eventually.

_Cities of Night/Semiotic Love_

By the time she got him back to her place, which wasn't easy with his wound, and laid him in bed, he started to spike a fever. He was still unconscious, but he was moaning and shaking, an occasional word audible among the nonsense.

"Judge…"

"Lucy…"

"Lovett…"

She paused for a moment at the sound of her name, then went back to business. She took off his boots and socks first, debating about the rest of his clothes. His shirt was still back at the judge's house, and she had draped him in his coat before taking him home. But both the coat and his pants were soaked with blood, and she really didn't feel like washing it out of her sheets. So, keeping her mind on business only, she undressed him, making a note to bring his clothes down to the basement next time she went down.

She stood up, hands on her hips, surveying the situation. Mr. Todd lay on her bed, naked except for his underwear. Before they'd left, she'd bandaged the wound as best she could, and she was pleased to see that the bleeding had slowed down. But his face was flushed, and he was still muttering, not mostly conscious.

She left and returned a few minutes later with a fresh pair of pants, a clean shirt and a damp wash cloth. She dressed him quickly, pretending he was someone else, before sitting down on the bed next to him. She rested the compress on his forehead, praying the fever would go down soon.

-

Mrs. Lovett woke up to Mr. Todd saying her name.

"Mr. T? You're awake! Thank heavens. Let's have a look at you, shall we?"

"What happened? Where's the judge?"

She faltered for a moment, knowing how upset he'd be that he wasn't the one to have killed him. "He's dead, love. Now let me look at you."

He settled back, seeming to be satisfied, at least for now. She felt his forehead first, and smiled. "Your fever's gone down! That's great news." And it really was. She checked the bullet hole, and was pleased with that, too. "Looks like you're going to be fine. Let's get you some gin, darling, and then you should rest."

By the time she got back with the shot glass and the bottle, Mr. Todd was sitting up again, a strange look on his face, one she didn't recognize. "You alright, love?" she asked, pouring a drink and handing it to him.

"I don't remember it," he said. "What use is killing him if I can't remember doing it?"

"Drink," she said, avoiding the question. "It'll put your mind to rest."

"What happened?" he asked. He was swirling the clear liquid, watching instead of drinking it.

"You should be sleeping," she said, knowing that she was only making things worse. "You had a big day, and–"

"What aren't you telling me?" he yelled. He started towards her, then bent over in pain, clutching his stomach where he had been shot.

"Don't–"

"What happened?" He looked up at her, and she couldn't stop the truth from spilling out.

"He shot you, and Anthony killed him," she said in a rush. "If he hadn't, he would've died, and I know you can't want that. It's better this way, Mr. T, really it is. Anthony's taking Johanna away tomorrow, and you can see her before she goes. That'll be nice, won't it? Finally getting to meet your daughter?"

He stayed the way he was, bent over in pain, fingers tightening around the gin until the shot glass broke, spilling alcohol and shards of glass everywhere.

"Let me get that," she said, leaning over to pick up the pieces.

He grabbed her wrist. "Leave it." She tried to pull away but he didn't let go. Instead, he started stroking the inside of her wrist, along her vein. "You have such pretty wrists…So smooth, delicate." He reached for his razor with his other hand, only to find it not there. He tightened his grip on her, asking quietly, "Where is my razor?"

"I had to change you, so as to not get blood on the bed," she replied, getting more and more uncomfortable. "They're upstairs, in their box."

Mr. Todd continued to rub circles on her wrist, not loosening his hold. "Why, my pet, would you let him do a thing like that?"

"I-I wasn't there," she stammered. She hadn't been this scared since he had almost slit her throat after the judge got away. "It's better that Anthony live, so he can take care of Johanna. Don't you want her to have a good home?"

"I would've given her that!" he roared. "I would've given her everything! Taken her away from that place, kept her safe, and happy. But no, the sailor had to come and steal her from me. Not again.

"No, not again."

4


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: **Cities of Night/Semiotic Love

**Pairing: **Sweeney/Lovett.

**Warnings:** Hopefully sex? Not sure. Murder, of course, but that's a given. Still. Again. More so.

**Word Count: **562

**Rating:** PG-13, maybe? Maybe R. Can't tell. Probably R by now.

**Spoilers:** Heh, it's Sweeney Todd.

**Disclaimer:** Sweeney Todd belongs to…oh, god, this is complicated. Um, not me. How about that? We could say Tim Burton, or we could say Edward Lloyd, or the people of London. Take your pick. Cities of Night and Semiotic Love belong to Blaqk Audio.

**Author's Note: **Whee! So I wrote this while lying sick on the floor of my bathroom. There was some stuff I wanted to change, only I've been sick, so I don't remember what it was. Something to make Mr. T more in character, maybe…? Anyways, the next chapter is half written, so it should go up sometime tonight or tomorrow.

_Cities of Night/Semiotic Love_

The knock was quiet, scared. Mr. Todd looked up, staring at the door like he could see through it. Mrs. Lovett rested a hand of his shoulder for a moment before getting up and going to the front room. He stayed where he was, hunched over on the bed, unable to move. He was going to see Johanna at last, he couldn't think straight. Would she look like Lucy? Would she sound like her? Would she–?

Anthony came in first, effectively distracting him with a hot flash of anger. Everything disappeared, everything except for the familiar need for revenge.

"How are you, sir?" Anthony asked, standing in the doorway. "Mrs. Lovett said you were–"

"Where is my Johanna?" he asked­. The need for revenge was there, and it was a comfort, but he needed his daughter. The boy could wait.

He stepped out of the doorway, and Johanna replaced him. She was pale, and had yellow hair, like Lucy. She was so young and so old at the same time; he had missed so much of her life, but there was so much more for him to be a part of. She hung back, staying next to Anthony.

"Come here, my dear," Mr. Todd said, patting the bed next to him. "Sit by my side. Tell me about yourself."

Maybe it was the bloody bandage, or the way his eyes burned. Maybe it was the old woman outside her house who kept insisting he was evil, but she stayed by Anthony.

"Sir, I think–"

His eyes flashed. "Sir? Johanna, my love, call me father."

"Mr. Todd–" Anthony stopped mid sentence, cut off by his look.

"You. What are you doing here?" he snarled. "Get out of my sight."

Anthony dropped his gaze. "Yes, sir." He turned to leave, resting a hand of Johanna's back, guiding her out of the room.

"Leave her."

"You should rest, Mr. T," Mrs. Lovett said, by his side.

Mr. Todd started, just noticing her. "You leave, too," he said. "You're not needed here."

She glared at him, then forcibly softened her expression. "Yes, sir. Come on, you two," she said, ushering Johanna and Anthony into the front room.

Mr. Todd stared after then, reaching instinctively for his razor. It wasn't there. He tightened his fist, making the cuts from the glass start bleeding again. He stood up, ignoring the pain in his stomach. He swept through the kitchen, not hearing Mrs. Lovett calling after him. He got two of his razors, his favorites, and returned in a matter of seconds.

He burst into the pie shop, razors held high. It was empty except for Mrs. Lovett, who was sitting at the table nearest the door.

"Where are they?"

"They left. Serves you right, scaring her like that. Honestly, Mr. T, what were you thinking?"

He grabbed her by the shoulder, pulling her up and pinning her against the wall. He held a razor to her neck, keeping his face a few inches from hers. "Where are they?" he snarled.

Her eye widened, her breathing quickened. "Mr. Todd, I–"

He pressed the razor down, drawing a thin line of bright red droplets. "Where are they?"

"The docks."

He let go, letting her slide down the wall, watching her bring a hand up to her neck in shock. He left then, not looking back.

3


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: **Cities of Night/Semiotic Love

**Pairing: **Sweeney/Lovett.

**Warnings:** Hopefully sex? Not sure. Murder, of course, but that's a given. Still. Again. More so.

**Word Count: **463

**Rating:** I'm going to go with R and leave it at that.

**Spoilers:** Heh, it's Sweeney Todd.

**Disclaimer:** Sweeney Todd belongs to…oh, god, this is complicated. Um, not me. How about that? We could say Tim Burton, or we could say Edward Lloyd, or the people of London. Take your pick. Cities of Night and Semiotic Love belong to Blaqk Audio.

**Author's Note: **I know this one and the one before it are really, really short, but that's just how they went. I'm not sure what's going to happen next, but there will, eventually, be Sweeney/Lovett stuff, I promise. This whole thing was supposed to be that, but then I got distracted…Anyways, more soon, I think.

Oh, and thanks to all of the people hoping I'll get better soon. It's just a UTI and I'll be fine, but I'm still not feeling very good, and I love the caringness of you all

_Cities of Night/Semiotic Love_

Mr. Todd stalked through the streets of London, moonlight glinting off the razors. The streets were empty, and his footsteps echoed in the narrow alleys. He knew all of the shortcuts, and wasn't worried about missing Anthony. He was strangely calm, as if a cool, soothing hand rested on his forehead. The urgency he usually felt wasn't there, replaced with a surety that everything would turn out the way it should. It was strange, but he welcomed the relief.

It didn't take long for him to arrive at the docks, and he stayed in the shadows, walking slowly along the river, waiting for Anthony. At last he spotted him, immerging from a side street, holding hands with Johanna, leading her towards a boat. He watched them approach, waiting until they were right in front of him before making himself known.

"So, Anthony. Did you really think I'd let you escape?" He enjoyed the shocked gasp as he stepped into the light.

"Sir, I don't understand," Anthony said, moving between Johanna and Mr. Todd. "What have I done?"

He laughed, a dark, unsettling sound. "Well now, what could it be? Let me think about that one for a second. Hmm…" he pretended to ponder it for a moment before grabbing the boy and slamming him against the wall. He held the razor against his neck, smiling to himself. "I know. You _killed the judge_."

"If I hadn't, he would've killed me. He almost killed you!" He glanced down for a second. "You're bleeding again."

Mr. Todd looked away just long enough for Johanna to step between him and Anthony.

"Get out of the way!" he roared, not bringing his razor up, but not dropping it, either. "I don't want to hurt you, my pet, but don't think–"

"Don't hurt him, father. Please don't." She locked eyes with him, pleading. "He's all I have."

Mr. Todd stood still for a moment before stepping back. The couple stayed where they were, shocked. He looked back up at them. "Get out of here before I change my mind." They still didn't move, paralyzed. "Get out!"

They ran off, quickly disappearing into the night. Mr. Todd watched after them, an emptiness washing over him. With Johanna gone and the judge dead, what was there left to do? He had devoted his entire life to killing him and getting her back, and now they were gone.

A quiet pattering made him look down, made him remember that he was bleeding again. He held up his blood hand to the light, fascinated by how thick and red it was. Then the world started to grey and he fell back against the wall, barely remembering to brace himself. He slid down the wall and collapsed, letting himself fall into unconsciousness.


	7. Chapter 7

**Title: **Cities of Night/Semiotic Love

**Pairing: **Sweeney/Lovett.

**Warnings:** Hopefully sex? Not sure. Murder, of course, but that's a given. Still. Again. More so. Even now.

**Word Count: **614

**Rating:** I'm going to go with R and leave it at that.

**Spoilers:** Heh, it's Sweeney Todd.

**Disclaimer:** Sweeney Todd belongs to…oh, god, this is complicated. Um, not me. How about that? We could say Tim Burton, or we could say Edward Lloyd, or the people of London. Take your pick. Cities of Night and Semiotic Love belong to Blaqk Audio.

**Author's Note: **What happened? Everyone was reviewing, and then they stopped…Kudos to **valmontmerteuil**, **Lady Charity**, **melbar23**, **sweeneylover16** and **smashing**. I love you all, but really. Reviews are what keep me going. More this time? Pretty please?­

_Cities of Night/Semiotic Love_

Mr. Todd woke up confused and in pain. He didn't like it. He groaned, struggling to open his eyes and sit up.

"Mr. T! Thank god you're awake. You almost died, you know." She paused. "Again." An arm came around his back, helping him to sit up. "Here, eat." A plate was handed to him, and he looked at it blearily.

"What is this?"

"Judge. Eat."

He managed a wan smile, but pushed it away. "My stomach hurts too much to eat. Save it for me." He rested a hand on the bandage. "My hands hurt, too. Do you have anything?"

She handed him a glass of what looked like milk. "Drink this. It'll help."

He drowned it in two gulps; the longer he was awake, the more he hurt. She took the glass back from him, looking concerned.

"Do you remember what happened?"

"Yes." His face was blank, and it worried her.

"Are you alright, love?" She tightened her hold on his shoulders, squeezing gently.

He shook her off, not saying anything.

"I'm worried about you." She really was, and she didn't know what to do about it. She had found him passed out by the docks, lying in a puddle of his own blood. It was easy enough to figure out what happened, and while she was glad Anthony and Johanna had gotten away, she didn't know what Mr. Todd was going to do with himself. Killing the judge and getting Johanna back was all he had, and now…

He looked up at her, and a strange expression washed over his face. A sort of smile lingered, and he actually seemed to be seeing her for the first time. "Don't worry about me."

She looked at him, confused. He almost looked like he was trying to reassure her as well as he could. "The medicine you took will make you tired," she said eventually. "Sleep. Besides, I've left Toby alone the past few days, trying to keep him out of your way. Call if you need anything." She left, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He watched Mrs. Lovett go, studying her. The way she always had her hands on her hips, the bounce of her curls, the ruffles of her skirt. _We could have a life together,_ she had said. With everyone else gone, she was all he had left. It was strange, thinking about her like this. And he hated himself for doing it, especially this quickly. But he needed something to fixate on; that was how he was.

"Mrs. Lovett!" He flinched; maybe yelling hadn't been the best idea.

She came back in, staying by the door. Her hands were covered with flour, which she wiped on her corset. "Everything alright?"

"I…" He trailed off, not knowing what he was feeling, let alone what he wanted to say.

She smiled. "The medicine'll make you groggy. Try to get some sleep, dear." She left again, gently closing the door behind her.

Maybe it was just the drugs. He lay back down, staring at the ceiling. That strange calm was still there, the certainty that everything would be okay. He didn't understand it, and he didn't necessarily like it. It should've been a comfort, and he knew that, but it was disquieting. It was like the world finally caught up to him, only for him to discover that he didn't actually like it, that it wasn't who he was. He didn't want the judge alive, but he didn't want this, either.

Against his will he felt his eyes closing, his brain slowing down as the medicine put him to sleep. He let himself go, hoping he'd feel better after he rested.

3


	8. Chapter 8

**Title: **Cities of Night/Semiotic Love

**Pairing: **Sweeney/Lovett.

**Warnings:** Hopefully sex? Not sure. Murder, of course, but that's a given. Still. Again. More so. Even now. Yeah, I'm gonna stop now. You all know what's happening.

**Word Count: **378

**Rating:** I'm going to go with R and leave it at that.

**Spoilers:** Heh, it's Sweeney Todd.

**Disclaimer:** Sweeney Todd belongs to…oh, god, this is complicated. Um, not me. How about that? We could say Tim Burton, or we could say Edward Lloyd, or the people of London. Take your pick. Cities of Night and Semiotic Love belong to Blaqk Audio.

**Author's Note: **Okay, I know it's really short, but I kept thinking about how I was ignoring Toby, and I needed to fix it before all of the stuff I'm doing today. If I have time, which I'm not saying I do, I'll put up another chapter tonight.

And thanks for the reviews There are only three new ones, but I just posted the chapter, and it's good to know you're still reading. hands out Sweeney Todd cookies

_Cities of Night/Semiotic Love_

Mrs. Lovett didn't have time to worry about him, which was good. This was the first night they had been open in three nights, and business was booming. The pure number of customers was staggering, and the only fresh meat they had was Beadle and the judge. Serving up the Beadle wasn't a problem, and there was certainly a lot of him, but she didn't know what Mr. Todd wanted to do with the judge, and there wasn't anyone else to use. If he didn't get better soon, she'd have to kill someone herself, and she didn't much like the thought of getting her dresses messy.

She ended up having to close at eight, sending away a good many hungry, disgruntled customers. She hated to see them go, but there wasn't anything she could do about it. On top of that, Toby had been bothering her all night, and he took the early closing as an opportunity to talk to her.

"What happened to Mr. Todd?"

Mrs. Lovett sighed, collapsing in her favorite chair, the one by the fireplace. "He had an accident, love. That's all. He'll be fine."

"Doing what? And why was he shouting so much last night?" Toby stood next to her, all but wringing his hands. "I heard him. I'm not stupid, ma'am. What's been going on?"

"Anthony stopped by, and they got into a fight. Don't worry yourself about it." She tried to stay calm, but this line of questioning was making her increasingly nervous. And she wanted to check on Mr. Todd, make sure he was still asleep, or if he was awake, try to get him to eat. "Run along, Toby."

"That's all you ever say," he said, not moving. "Especially now. Please tell me, ma'am. I can help you."

She smiled at him – he really was so sweet, even if he was starting to become a problem. "Nothing needs to be helped, dear. Everything's fine." She stood up, gently pushing Toby towards the kitchen. "Go on and clean up, would you? There'll be gin for you if you do a good job."

He face lit up. "Yes, ma'am!" He ran off, already taking out his washcloth. She looked after him, smiling sadly. If only Mr. Todd was as easily distracted.

2


	9. Chapter 9

**Title: **Cities of Night/Semiotic Love

**Pairing: **Sweeney/Lovett.

**Warnings:** Hopefully sex? Not sure. Murder, of course, but that's a given. Still. Again. More so. Even now. Yeah, I'm gonna stop now. You all know what's happening.

**Word Count: **605

**Rating:** I'm going to go with R and leave it at that.

**Spoilers:** Heh, it's Sweeney Todd.

**Disclaimer:** Sweeney Todd belongs to…oh, god, this is complicated. Um, not me. How about that? We could say Tim Burton, or we could say Edward Lloyd, or the people of London. Take your pick. Cities of Night and Semiotic Love belong to Blaqk Audio.

**Author's Note: **Yay! A way of making it "romantic" but still in character. This is very good. Also, the number of reviews is amazing. It makes me want to write more Only three more, and then we're at fifty! I'm excited.

Also, if anyone knows what the numbers at the bottom of the chapters mean, drop me a line. I know they have something to do with the length, but…?

_Cities of Night/Semiotic Love_

Mrs. Lovett stood outside the door to her own bedroom, afraid to go inside. It was ridiculous – it was her own room, for one thing, and for another, Mr. Todd needed her. Ironically, she was more scared of his now than she had been before. She had no idea how he was going to react, either now, or in the long term. Maybe he'd be okay, and finally snap out of the fifteen year depression he had been in. Or maybe he'd completely flip out, destroying everything around him.

There was also the question of how she fit into his life. His need for someone to hold him back, keep him from doing something stupid was gone. But it was also possible that with Johanna out of the picture, maybe he'd be able to move on towards better things…like her.

"Mrs. Lovett?"

His voice was hoarse, in pain. Her need to take care of him was greater than any potential awkwardness, and she went in, sitting on the bed next to him. "Are you alright, love?" she asked, resting a hand on his forehead. No fever. He was too pale, but his cool forehead calmed her down.

"Whatever you gave me, I need more," he said, eyes squeezed shut, hands gripping the sheets. He couldn't get out the words, couldn't think clearly enough to, but he knew what was happening. Without Johanna to distract him, all that was left was the pain. "_Now_."

A cool glass was pressed against his lips, and the first few sips brought nearly instant relief. He sighed, relaxing his hold on the blankets and opening his eyes. Mrs. Lovett was leaning over him, looking worried.

"Any better?"

Mr. Todd took a deep breath. "Yeah. Thanks." He studied her, the surprised expression. "What?"

She blushed, looking away. "You've never thanked me before."

He thought about it. "No, I guess I haven't. There's a lot I haven't said you to." He stopped, wondering what the hell he was doing. "I think the medicine's making me groggy." Did he mean to say that out loud? He couldn't tell.

Mrs. Lovett smiled. "Don't worry about it. It's nice, even if you don't mean any of it."

"No, I do." Did he? "I mean, I…" He trailed off. "What?"

She brought a hand up to her mouth, trying to hide her amusement. She knew she shouldn't laugh at him, but it was strangely adorable to watch the great Sweeney Todd fumble for words. "Nothing, darling."

He blinked at her. Everything seemed foggy, but beautiful. Especially Mrs. Lovett. "You look nice."

Again, she blushed, a pretty pink in contrast to how pale she usually was. "It's the medicine talking."

He shook his head, then regretted it as a wave of dizziness washed over him. He reached out, looking for the bed, finding her leg instead. He left his hand where it was, gently massaging her, loving how she felt beneath him. When she didn't say anything, he moved his hand up, higher than he should've, loving when she didn't object. Her skirts were thick, but he could still feel her shaking beneath him. She shifted, moving closer, sighing happily.

"Mrs. Lovett…" Her name escaped his lips without his permission, a quiet whisper.

It was enough. She jerked back, nearly falling off the bed. Her eyes flew open, staring at him, looking nearly panicked. "I…we can't…you're drugged."

He smiled, and she realized, yet again, how beautiful he was. "Yeah, probably." His eyes started to droop, and he yawned hugely.

The fact that he was falling asleep was comforting, and she sat down again. "Sleep."

He already was.

3


End file.
